


Like Christmas Morning, But With More Sex and Shame (and Shamelessness)

by tuesdayfic (tuesday)



Category: Psych
Genre: Fall Fandom Free For All, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-06
Updated: 2008-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-04 00:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesdayfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after the night they can't fully remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Christmas Morning, But With More Sex and Shame (and Shamelessness)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for mizzmarvel for Fall Fandom Free For All 2008. Thank you to Loz for the beta.

"Shawn! Shawn, wake up!" Gus's voice sounded entirely too panicked for the early Christmas morning feeling Shawn's brain was pouring in. It felt a lot like his brain had been bathing in left-over endorphins the night after--oh. Shawn opened his eyes and went to sit up, then promptly let himself fall back into the covers when his whole back flared in pain. Even lying still, there was some definite twinging going on.

"You killed me," Shawn said accusingly.

"I don't think that's what I did," Gus said, and the panic had only increased in his voice. His eyes were wide like the time Shawn had told Gus there was no Santa--and why was Shawn getting that present feeling? Yes, this had fallen fortuitously in his lap, but even with his memory, the night was a bit of a blur after Gus had agreed to share the bed (only fair in that though it was Gus's bed, Shawn had brought the alcohol and Gus had stolen his keys, though apparently the offer had expanded to more than just the bed). He remembered blurry moments of skin and slick lube and fingers pressing in all sliding slowly together, so that he wasn't even certain of the order of them (though he was pretty sure the memory of staring down into Gus's sleeping face and counting his eyelashes, high on the afterglow, was near the end of the evening). It was unpleasant to discover this whole morning after thing didn't seem to go so well when you didn't welcome the other person having done the walk of shame or still being there, but only to give the "It was fun, but I've got places to be" speech.

Couldn't Gus see how awesome this was?

Rather than asking, Shawn said: "It was only a little death." He looked at the general state of disaster that was the bedroom. "Or a lot of them."

"Shawn!"

"What, like you never expected to wake up together after a bender at some point in our friendship."

"No, I can't say I did. That you did worries me."

Shawn didn't appreciate the suspicious look Gus was giving him.

"Like I would take advantage of you. Please. Judging by the light bruises around my wrists, either I lost a fight with a series of bracelets, or _I'm_ the one who spent a significant portion of last night cuffed to the bed." Shawn gestured over the side of the bed at the handcuffs half-buried in one of his blue t-shirts.

"Handcuffs?"

"Mine or Lassy's; I can't be sure from this angle. I brought both because of this fun new idea I had for twister--"

"_Lassiter's_ handcuffs?" Gus's horror was indescribable. Okay, it was describable, but Shawn didn't think "a moose on acid spotting its first dancing purple elephant of many" would win him any favors, and he had pressing reasons to want favors from Gus, not the least being more pillows and hot water bottles and, oh, pain killers, not to mention something to take them with. Those were all jobs for someone not laid out on his back.

"Relax, you didn't vicariously sleep with Lassy. He gave me his handcuffs when he was drunk--"

"Like when I was drunk and--" Gus began, and Shawn could already tell it was a tiny snowball of indignation rolling its way to an avalanche of outrage about the dangers of drunken shenanigans.

"Yes, when people are drunk, they want to give me things," Shawn interrupted, "but in his case it was just his handcuffs, and in yours it was a night of kinky, rough sex that felt good at the time but resulted in a literal butt-load of pain in the morning." That shut Gus up, so Shawn continued, "It was during that astronomy case, right before he had that altercation with a table."

"Oh," Gus said and ran a thumb along his brow roughly where Lassiter's bruise had been. Shawn nodded wearily.

"Now bring me my pillows."

"Pillows?"

"If you were the one in need of bed rest, I would bring you pillows. You can have your gay freak-out when I'm comfortable."

Gus grumbled, but got up and headed for the linen closet. He also obligingly fetched Shawn the aspirin, but drew the line at the hot water bottles or fluffing Shawn's pillows.

"You could at least bring me a breakfast tray! Oooo, with those little pastries I saw hiding in the back of your fridge."

"Whatever, Shawn, I have to shower and go to work."

"Or you could stay here in bed, with me. You'd have to find more pillows, though, as these are all mine."

Gus shook his head and grabbed some clothes.

"Was that a refusal, or frustration at my greed? Because my body is still available as a soft, pillowy surface."

Gus shook his head again and disappeared into the bathroom.

"Gus! Which is it, you're not being clear!"

The sound of water running came from behind the closed door. Shawn frowned at it and said, "Fine. I'll just take this whole bed to myself." He drowsed for a while, and woke to the bedroom door sliding softly closed.

"You are the only person I know to do a walk of shame _from his own apartment_!" Shawn spoke at the door and footsteps slinking softly away. He briefly considered getting up, but eventually burrowed back into the pillows. He was still sore and deserved to get his beauty sleep today.

"It's the weekend. You don't even have work today," he murmured into the down before slipping back into sleep.

When he woke up again, sunlight was shining through the bedroom window like a creepy Samuel Jackson floodlight, right in his eyes. Shawn wondered whether this made him Patrick Wilson or Kerry Washington.

This time, he got up. The painkillers had helped some, though his back popped like a series of firecrackers, and Shawn was determined that the next time (and Shawn knew that there would be a next time, just like he'd known there would be a first time, though he hadn't expected it to take quite so long, but that was what happened when Gus went through college and his experimental phase with Shawn out of the state and, in some cases, the country), no matter how appealing it seemed at the time, either Gus was being tied up or Shawn was topping.

Shawn used up all of Gus's hot water and the last of the shampoo he'd left over from two years ago (shampoo never went bad; at least, he didn't think it did) and large quantities of Gus's mango coconut body wash. Afterward, he draped himself in all the clean towels and tromped into Gus's bedroom again.

"I smell delicious," he declared to the mirror.

The bedroom door opened, and Gus said, "You're still not dressed?"

"Gah." Shawn avoided slipping and braining himself on the floor, but he lost half of his towels, leaving him with only four.

"I hate when we have Saturday brunch meetings," Gus said, loosening his tie and undoing the top button of his shirt. "I'm expected to eat while discussing chlamydia. Seriously, you can never call during one of those with an excuse about how my grandmother's fallen down the stairs again?"

"I didn't know you were encouraging me to make you play hooky," said Shawn as he watched Gus take the tie off entirely and hang it from the doorknob.

"I'm not," Gus said warningly. "My usual work week should remain unmolested."

But not the rest of him?

"What's with the change of heart?" Shawn asked slowly as Gus undid his belt.

"I realized you were right," Gus said. "And then in between the pancakes and chlamydia talk and the coffee and skin lesions, I realized you were disappointed it hadn't happened sooner." He started undoing the rest of his shirt buttons and took several steps forward, right into Shawn's personal space.

His body language was unmistakable.

"Are you seriously attempting to seduce me while talking about sexual diseases?" Shawn asked. "Do you really think I'm that easy?"

"Don't forget the skin lesions," Gus said. "And yes, I do, but we've already skipped that part." And okay, Shawn had to give Gus that, because when he leaned forward to claim a kiss, Shawn let his towels drop and pulled Gus back toward the bed.

"Mmm," Shawn murmured happily as Gus moved down to lick his collarbone. "But no penetration," he warned. "I already promised myself this. Not unless you're wearing handcuffs."

"Do I even want to know what other conditions there are?" Gus asked.

"I'm not sure. I could think up more."

"I'll take the handcuffs," Gus said and leaned off the bed long enough to swipe up the pair from the floor. "So long as they're not Lassiter's."

"They're not," Shawn lied. He wasn't sure what he'd done with his, and it would take time to look for them that was better spent on other, more fun (funner?) endeavors.

"Shawn, they're not Lassiter's, right?"

"I just said they weren't!"

"I don't trust you."

"You are just morally opposed, apparently, to getting laid. We need to work on your priorities."

Gus sighed and kissed Shawn again. "We'll work something out."

They did.


End file.
